


dive

by heartbreakgirl



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Actor Luke, Age Difference, Cheating, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Nanny Michael
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-30 13:26:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12109695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbreakgirl/pseuds/heartbreakgirl
Summary: Luke's a world renowned actor with a wife and 4 children. Michael works for him.Or, it shouldn't work out, but loves never followed rules.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god. before you go right ahead and read this... i... i'm sorry. I'm Really Sorry
> 
> (if there are any silly mistakes it's because i'm too lazy and stupid to proofread anything i write) (my English teacher can't stand me)

If there’s one thing Michael positively excels in, it is the art of caring for and dealing with young children. _And_ music, too, but that’s a sensitive topic.

His undeniable talent is what landed him a job working for the one and only renowned actor Luke Hemmings and his equally prestigious wife Melissa Griffiths - or more accurately, Melissa Griffiths- _Hemmings._ The couple already had 4 children by their early 30s; a teenage son and daughter, and two young (freaking _adorable)_ twins - and it was Michael’s job to look over them while their parents were away. Which was the majority of the time.

When he found out the Hemmings’ were looking for a new nanny for their kids after the previous one had been caught stealing Melissa’s jewellry, Michael immediately thought of a billion reasons why he had to land the job. One being that he desperately needed to leave his tiny, depressing hometown where nothing - repeat _nothing_ \- ever happened. Another obvious reason, he was practically perfect for the job, he loved kids and kids loved him, even stuck up rich ones.

His selling reason, however, was neither of these.

It was the (albeit selfish) fact that it was _Luke_ freakin’ _Hemmings._ His favourite actor, his big fat gay celebrity crush, his wet dream, his _idol_ . He couldn’t and wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet him and - _fuck_ \- live with him in his glamourous L.A penthouse and look after his children.

Of course it’d seemed a great idea at the time. And it definitely turned out to be, for the most part.

~

L.A. lived up to its hype of glitz and glam and good vibes. The Hemmings’ penthouse was just as big and posh as anticipated. Luke Hemmings was just as tall and sexy in person, if not taller and, God, even sexier.

The kids weren't as stuck up and snotty as he'd expected, though, and didn't take long at all to warm up to him, which made Michael brim with pride. They were great kids, and they all had Luke’s gorgeous, piercing blue eyes.

Michael loved his job. He was paid good money to do something he loved. He was working for two huge actors and living with them in their expensive, spacious home with its own _private park_ and a damn swimming pool installed that he had permission to use _any time he liked_.

Michael loved his job.

He only had one small complaint.

It just so happened to be that before Michael had come to know Luke personally, his crush had been just that - a _crush_ . A freakin’ _celebrity_ one, too, based purely on looks and charm and talent, like most celebrity crushes are; no substance whatsoever. He wasn't, like, in _love_. The mere thought was unrealistic.

However, with the change of circumstances also came the change in Michael's feelings. Luke wasn't a fantasy anymore. He was _right there._ Living with him. Within arms reach, but still miles away. Untouchable. And Michael was falling hard.

If he hasn't already, he knows he'll fall all the way soon, and Luke will either be there to catch him (unhealthy wishful thinking on Michael's part) or he'll drop to the ground in a miserable, unloved heap.

The latter is pretty much a given.

~

Michael's curled up on the large leather sofa watching Netflix when he hears the ding of the elevator, signalling someones arrival. That _someone_ could only be Luke, as Melissa's currently filming her new movie in New York and the kids are either chilling upstairs or in the twins’ case, fast asleep. Grinning, Michael quickly gets up.

“Welcome home, Mr Hemmings.” he smiles widely, going to remove Luke’s jacket from his shoulders and hanging it up. It isn’t the first time he’s done this, having worked for the Hemmings’ for a little over 3 months, but it still made him indescribably happy for a reason he couldn’t quite place. It felt awfully domestic, helping Luke with his coat. Michael couldn’t help thinking it’d feel even better if he could wrap his arms around Luke’s neck and press their lips together right after, just like he’d seen Melissa do the few times they’d managed to be home at the same time. He quickly shook his head, not wanting to upset himself again with thoughts like those.

Luke was smiling softly at him, his eyes tired but the smile still reaching them. “Good evening, Michael,” he says with his thick Aussie accent. Even after all this time, Michael is still left breathless at the way his name sounds spoken by Luke. It's smooth and natural. He often replayed it in his head, over and over at night when he couldn’t sleep or was stuck bored and alone at home with the kids away at school. “And for the hundredth time, love, just call me Luke. None of that ‘Mr Hemmings’, alright? You’re family.”

“Okay,” he tries not to blush like a fucking 15 year old school-girl rather than the 19 year old mature _man_ that he is, and of course fails miserably. “Can I get you something to eat...Luke?”

“That’s more like it.” Luke chuckles. “And no thank you, sweetheart. I’ll just have some wine.”

Nodding and smiling politely, Michael makes his way to the kitchen to fetch a glass for Luke (also, to calm the fuck down and collect himself, screw Luke and his fucking pet names, Jesus fucking Christ).

He pours a glass of fancy expensive wine he's never really understood the appeal of, his hands shaking slightly. He takes a long deep breath before heading back out, finding Luke sat in his own previous spot on the sofa, watching the TV with an amused expression on his face.

When he looks up and sees Michael approaching him, Luke chuckles softly. “You’re watching Pokemon?” he says, gently taking the glass from Michael. Their fingertips brush briefly and Michael feels his entire body react to the barely there touch of Luke’s skin against his. He prays it doesn’t show on his face, prays that if it does Luke doesn’t notice it.

“I love Pokemon.” Michael wants to facepalm. Then punch himself in the nose. Then repeatedly bang his head against the wall. Then maybe throw himself off the balcony.

But then he hears Luke laugh, which happens to be Michael’s favourite sound in the entire world, and he momentarily forgives himself. “Oh, I know,” he winks, unaware that the simple gesture has Michael’s heart rate catapulting dangerously. “It's no wonder you and Derek get along so well.” He's referring to his only son, who Michael fondly recalls is just as nerdy and infatuated with anime and videogames as he is.

“He's awesome. Such a cool kid,” Michael smiles softly, hands clasping together behind his back.

Luke hums contentedly, gaze not leaving Michael for a few long minutes. When his eyes finally leave him, it's only to take a sip of wine - he always eats and drinks with his eyes closed, like it helps him savour and appreciate the taste of it more, which Michael is deeply endeared by - and then he's back to staring thoughtfully at Michael again. Michael, who is trying to casually stand still without fainting at Luke's feet.

“Come sit.” Luke taps the spot next to him, casual as ever. Because it _is_ casual to him. God, Michael's his _employee_. Damnit.

“This is my favourite episode.” Michael suddenly blurts out once he's sat down. Before he can stop himself, and Luke's attention diverts back to him, smile prominent on his face. “I always cry - I mean. Not anymore _._ I used to though, a lot. When I was really young and…”

He cuts himself short when he looks back up into Luke's eyes and sees them looking back at him, amused with a trace of _fond._ He knows he's probably imagined the latter part, but it's still enough to shut him up and paint his cheeks a deeper red than they already were.

“You're adorable.” Luke tells him softly. So softly that Michael likely wouldn't have heard it if Luke didn't have all his senses constant undivided attention at all times.

Michael hears it loud and clear of course. Just like everything else Luke says and does, because every part of Michael including his ears is just as whipped for Luke as his heart and mind are.

“Uhm, thank you. Um,” he's stumbling and he can't help it, doesn't even wanna look at Luke anymore because it's times like these that he's reminded of how utterly insignificant he is.

Luke is a handsome, wealthy, mature _married_ man in his 30s with a successful career and his life all sorted out. Michael is an awkward, nerdy, stuttering teenage _boy_ working for his family.

And that's all he'll ever be to Luke; the pet names, the little compliments - they mean _nothing_ to him, it's just him being polite because he's a good person. And he's got a gorgeous, movie-star wife that had been labelled _Hollywood's Hottest_ two years in a row, why would he even take a second look at the 19 year old weirdo who babysat his kids?

~

Later that night when Michael's sure everyone's fast asleep, he strips down and gets into the shower.

He stands directly underneath the shower head for a few minutes, letting the water wash away all of his sweat and exhaust. He feels better already.

He's on a roll, keeping his mind focused _only_ on the tasks at hand and washing himself clean, until he's rinsing his hair out and his brain finally gives up and decides it misses Luke.

His thoughts drift always back to him, it's like home.

And, well, he's naked in the shower right now. So it's really no surprise at all when he starts picturing a naked _Luke._ A _naked Luke in the shower_ and it's even less of a surprise when he's wrapping a tight fist around himself and starting to pump slowly.

He's a fucking mess and he hates himself. What else is new?

This is routine. Tugging himself off in the shower until he comes and lets the water wash away the proof. He only ever gets off in the shower now, too afraid of getting caught anywhere else. Which means he showers a whole lot more now (and, hey, least he smells good all the fuckin’ time).

He thinks about Luke’s body, his toned chest and long legs. His big arms and how easily they could pin him down. “Fuck.” His hand starts moving up and down faster, and he starts imagining how it'd feel if it were Luke touching him like this, making him feel good, fucking him _\- God,_ fucking him. Luke’s so tall and strong and experienced, could easily hold him down and fuck him nice and raw without breaking so much as a sweat.

It's that thought that has Michael gasping and shuddering as he comes all over his hand, mouth open and eyes rolling. He's panting as he comes down, watching as the drain swallows down the mess he's made, and it's not long at all before the familiar guilt replaces the pleasure in his stomach.

~

It was one of Luke's rare days off.

This meant Michael also got the day off, since Luke was home and that meant much needed quality time with his children. Usually they had a movie night, and by the smell of fresh popcorn wafting about and the sound of the twins arguing about which film is best to watch, tonight was one too.

His plans varied. Sometimes, he'll sleep the day away. Nap and wake up from _(another)_ dream about Luke and a life he'll never live. Maybe facetime Calum, tell him about the dreams without Calum asking or giving him permission. But Calum always listens, anyway, doesn’t tell Michael he's a fool even though he is, and Michael appreciates it. Appreciates him.

Sometimes he watches a movie, too, but by himself in his room of course, because it wouldn't be fair to interrupt Luke and his kids alone time when they get so little of it as it is (Luke always offers, insists that him and the kids would love his company, but he couldn't; the urge to rest his head on Luke's shoulder or, God, _lean in and kiss him_ or anything equally awful would be too much to handle).

Tonight, he plans on getting smashed beyond repair.

He texts Calum just that. _in the mood to get piss drunk. u in or wot?_

He receives a reply in less than a minute, smiling as he reads it. _who do u think i am. meet u in 20_

_~_

_u ready?? in the car x_

Michael gets up, giving himself a once over in the mirror, fixing his hair not because he cares but out of habit, and steps out of his bedroom door.

He walks down the stairs and is met with a precious sight; Luke on the couch, clad in sweatpants and a hoodie with one of the twins (Grace) curled up on his lap and the other (Ruby) clung to his side. Derek is comfortably seated on the loveseat opposite and Sarah - his daughter - is sat cross-legged on the carpet. They're watching Mulan.

Right now, Luke looks so _cozy_ and _homelike_ . It makes Michael want to snuggle up to him, kiss his nose and then his mouth and have the(ir) kids yell about how gross they are, just be real domestic. Like an actual family. And then Michael gets upset because he _can't fucking do that._

Snapping himself out of it, Michael decides to announce his presence. “Hey, guys! I’m off, enjoy the movie!” he grins.

There's a chorus of “Bye, Michael!” and “Bye, Mikey!” as he makes his way to the elevator, but all he really hears is Luke's “stay safe, love”. It makes his stomach twist and his heart fill with something he can't place.

He hates that Luke has this effect on him, that he can literally just _say his name_ and have Michael reeling for days, can just brush fingertips and have Michael’s skin tingling for hours afterwards. It's terrible and Michael wants it - _needs_ it to stop. He's going to get drunk off his ass tonight and it's gonna finally fucking _stop._

~

It doesn't stop.

In fact, it gets worse. The alcohol seems to amplify it.

Luke is everywhere he looks. He can't see anyone's face because all he sees is Luke's. Luke's beautiful face, and his beautiful pacific blue eyes and his beautiful ski slope nose and his _beautiful_ pink lips. Luke.

He doesn't know where Calum went, can't care at this point. He decides he isn't near drunk enough, downs 2, 3, 4 more cups and is about to fetch another when he feels a hand latching onto his hip.

His first instinct would be to jerk away from the touch, but his slow fuzzy alcohol abused brain isn't working properly right now. So he leans back into it. He convinces himself it's Luke. Luke's large, warm hand, clasped around his hip, pulling him back against him. Luke.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Sweetheart. _Fuck._ “All alone?”

He's sober enough to know where this is going and drunk enough to go along with it. Because whoever this is smells good and he's already hard against Michael's back and Michael could use a good lay.

So he lets it happen. Let's the stranger lead him to his apartment and fuck him. He keeps his eyes shut, pretends it's Luke. He's careful not to open them, not to shatter the fantasy.

~

He wakes up on the wrong side of the wrong bed to a deathly hangover, a dull ache in his ass, and 24 text messages. 23 are from Calum wanting to know _where the fuck are you_ and one is from Luke telling him to _get back to me as soon as you can x._

He calls Luke first.

He picks up on the fourth ring. “Michael?”

“I'm so sorry!” he blurts out while struggling to pull on his jeans and boxers. “I should've called to say I wasn't coming home, I was just really drunk and I didn - “

Light laughter cuts him off. “Michael, shush. No need to explain yourself, I was young once, too,” he reassures. “I was just worried about you.” And Michael's heart starts beating so hard he's afraid it's gonna leap right out of his chest. “Take your time, just be back by 3.”

Michael nods, then remembers it's a phone call. “Yes, Mr - I mean, Luke. Yes, Luke. Sorry again.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, love. Stay safe.” _Click._

~

“I can't believe you _left_ me.”

“Oh, you can talk.”

Calum sounds almost as hungover and miserable as Michael, but not quite. Never quite. When Michael gets drunk, he gets _drunk_ , his usual hold over his self control nonexistent.

“Whatever.”

Luke's left and Melissa's still not back yet, so it's just Michael and the kids, except Sarah who's at a friends birthday party until 7.

Calum’s still on the line complaining but Michael knows he's not really annoyed at him (not anymore at least). It's just how he deals with hangovers; Michael deals with them by curling up into a ball and sleeping away his pain.

He can't do that right now.

As soon as he'd entered through the elevator Luke was making his way out, hurriedly thanking him and telling him he'd be back later that night. When Michael entered the kitchen he was startled to find a steaming mug of coffee waiting for him. Luke can't stand coffee, nor can Melissa, or any of the kids for that matter - the Hemmings were caffeine intolerant, if it were to be a thing. So who else could it have been for? Who else could have made it? _Why_ did they even have coffee in their home?

Of course Michael sat and drank it and thought about Luke the entire time he did and willed himself not to read into the situation too much and get it all wrong and - God forbid - get his hopes up because that's dangerous fucking territory and Michael's not as strong as he'd like to think he is. Luke is a good person; he knew Michael would be hungover and miserable, so he made him coffee. That was all.

“Michael? Are you even - ? Never mind. Course you're not listening.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry Cal. I'm just a little out of it.”

“Luke?” Calum concludes knowingly.

Michael sighs. “Luke.”

“You're hopeless.”

“He made me coffee, Cal, fuck. He _hates_ coffee and so does his wife and all his children and he _knows_ I love it so it can't have been for anyone but me. Like, he actually thought to do it, for _me._ It's literally nothing but I'm just - _God_ , Cal. I love him so much.” Michael makes sure to speak extra quietly, not risking the kids overhearing. God, the _kids_.

“Wow. You really are hopeless.”

“Thanks, bro.”

“Anytime,” Calum says with faux enthusiasm that _almost_ manages to make Michael smile. “But seriously, you need to try and get over this. You're, like, 10 years apart and he's _married_ , Mike, I don't want you getting hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah, you're right. I will some day.” Ha. “I gotta go now. Duty calls.”

“A’right. Later.”

“Later.”

~

It's late and the kids are asleep. Except maybe Derek; he'd stay up on his console till Michael goes in and makes him turn everything off and go to bed (except for the few times he just ends up joining him. He's a responsible adult, he _is)_.

Luke's not back yet, but Melissa is, watching TV quietly in her and Luke's bedroom. She's a sweetheart, always so lovely to Michael. It makes him feel extra bad for lusting after her husband.

Michael can't sleep, and isn't in the mood for another Luke dream anyway, so he gets up and tiptoes his way to the kitchen.

He's about to walk past Sarah's room, when he hears quiet sobs coming from inside it. They're slightly choked, like she's afraid someone will hear.

Frowning, Michael knocks softly on her door. The sobbing comes to an abrupt halt for a solid few seconds before a shuddering breath is heard. Sighing, Michael twists the knob and enters the room.

What he sees makes him sigh again, this time thick with emotion and his heart physically aches (he really loves these kids, alright?); there's a lump beneath the covers, the only telltale sign that it's Sarah and not just a jumbled quilt being her breathing. “Hey,” he speaks softly, not wanting to startle her. She doesn't move.

“What's wrong, bub?” he asks the lump, sitting carefully at the edge of the bed.

Eventually, Sarah lowers the blanket from her eyes. They're bloodshot and sad; it makes Michael frown. She doesn't say anything for a while, until Michael sighs again and moves closer. He holds his arms out in front of him, smiling encouragingly, a silent invitation.

He's surprised when she's suddenly zooming forward, bursting into another fit of tears and sobbing them into his chest. This wouldn't be the first time he's caught her crying and went to comfort her, but it'd never been like this. It makes Michael unbearably upset.

He waits for the sobbing to die down, strokes her hair and kisses her forehead softly and whispers reassurances that everything will be okay. Then he speaks, “you wanna talk about it?” if she refuses, he'll drop it. He knows how frustrating it can be having people insist when you just don't wanna talk.

She simply shrugs. Before Michael can make anything of it, though, she's speaking into his chest. “I'm just _tired._ I miss Mum. I miss Dad, too, but when he's home he _does_ stuff with us. Like, watch movies with us and take us out to parks and stuff. And he gets me nice things,“ sniff “from cool places and tells me he _loves_ me. Mum,” sniff, shaky sigh “Mum doesn't do _anything._ She barely even hugs me. I know she's just busy and tired and stuff and I know she works _so hard_ and I'm being selfish and _dumb_ but I just feel like… like, sometimes I feel like she doesn't _love_ me.”

Michael can't believe what he's hearing. “Hey, shhh, of _course_ your mum loves you,” he strokes her cheek softly with his thumb. “Never, ever doubt that, okay? She adores you, every single one of you.”

“Then… then why doesn't she…”

“Like you said, she's just really busy, and when she's not busy she's really tired. I spoke to her earlier, and she told me she's so satisfied with how happy you all seem, so maybe she just thinks your Dad and I are doing enough and she isn't really needed all that much.” He isn't lying; Melissa had stepped in while Michael was playing with the twins to let him know she's thankful for him not only just watching over but genuinely caring for her babies and making them happy, and that she's positive if it wasn't for him and Luke she definitely wouldn't have survived with them on her own.

She lets out a sound, half between a whimper and a sigh. “But we _do_ need her. She's our _mum._ ”

“Yes, you tell her that, okay? Tell her you understand she's busy, and tired, and working hard, but you miss your Mum and you _need_ her. And you're not selfish, alright? Or dumb. You're the smartest little girl I know. Smarter than all the other little girls, _combined,_ and much, much smarter than me.”

That earns a giggle. “M’not a little girl. I'm nearly 13.”

“Ah, yes, you're right, my apologies, Ma'am.”

She giggles again, and Michael smiles.

Then someone's clearing their throat at the doorway and both Michael and Sarah are whipping around to find Luke standing there, fond smile plastered on his face. Michael doesn't know _why,_ but he feels himself blushing.

Luke walks over, and plants a tender kiss to the top of his daughter's head. “We'll talk later, okay?” he whispers against her temple, waiting for her short nod before turning to Michael and smiling at him kindly. He gestures towards the door and Michael understands.

He kisses Sarah's forehead and wishes her _goodnight,_ making sure he leaves her smiling before following after Luke.

“That was very sweet of you, Michael,” Luke says once they're in the kitchen. He’s poured them both glasses of wine and although Michael may not be a big fan of wine, it's been established at this point that he'd do anything for Luke.

He bites his lip to stop from smiling too big, willing his skin to cool the fuck down. The kitchen lights are bright as hell and Luke's looking _right_ at him, he doesn't need to be looking like a fucking tomato right now. “You're so good with them. Takes me at least half an hour to just stop her crying, usually.”

Michael breathes a laugh. “Well. Took me a bit, too, to be honest. My shirts wet.” This makes Luke chuckle, and Michael gives himself a mental high five. “She just needed a lil hug and a chat. I'm glad I walked by when I did.”

“I'm glad I have you.”

Michael wishes his entire body didn't tense up completely. He wishes his heart didn't simultaneously freeze still inside his chest and start racing so fast he can hear the beat of it loud in his ears and he wishes his limbs didn't suddenly feel like cooked spaghetti and his feet weren't struggling to hold his body up. He wishes he didn't have to physically keep himself from gripping the chair closest to him just to remain upright.

He means to speak, he _does._ Maybe a thank you or _something_. Just. Anything. Like a normal fucking functioning human being. But that's not what he is, at the end of the day.

He stays silent.

Luke's suddenly closer than he was 2 minutes ago. Maybe he moved during Michael's mini crisis. God.

Luke's eyes are so _blue_ . The bluest blue Michael's ever seen. He's sure Luke invented the colour blue. Blue wasn't really _blue_ before Luke; the sky barely compares, nor does the ocean, Luke's eyes put both to shame.

Michael's so zoned in on his eyes he forgets his lips altogether. His lips that are suddenly so close to his own - when the hell were they suddenly so close? What's happening? Is he asleep, is he dreaming? Because Michael could _swear_ Luke’s about to -

A near deafening shatter cuts the tension. It takes Michael's hazy fogged up brain a full 6 seconds to realise _he just fucking dropped his glass of wine on the floor_.

“Fuck! Shit I'm so sorry, shit, I - “

“Hey, hey, it's alright! Are you okay, love?” _God please don't call me that right now._

Michael doesn't answer, just crouches down and begins collecting the shards of glass.

“Hey, that's dangerous, love, you could - “

As if on cue, Michael's hissing in pain as one of them sharply pricks his finger. Idiot. He's a stupid fucking idiot.

“Oh, Michael. Hang on, sweetheart.” Michael wants to yell, _I'm not your fucking sweetheart she's your sweetheart._ He doesn't.

He lets Luke crouch beside him and take his hand with the injured finger. He ignores the tingles he feels at Luke's touch on his skin. Luke cleans the cut and wraps Michael's finger in a plaster. It's bright pink with flowers on it, so it must belong to one of the twins. Michael feels pathetic. He doesn't look up at Luke once.

“There you are,” Luke gently releases his hand and gets up. He helps pull Michael to his feet. “Go to sleep, okay, love? I'll take care of this.”

Michael would argue, but he can't. Can barely fucking process Luke's words right now. He nods slowly.

He walks up the stairs, ignoring how completely and utterly screwed he is.

He walks into his room, closes the door quietly behind him with shaking hands. Collapses against it as soon as it's shut.

He leans heavily on it for God knows how long, trying to make sense. Of what, he really doesn't know. Fuck. He doesn't know.

Did he really think Luke was gonna kiss him? The answer is yes. Because he's a fucking stupid hopeless idiot who doesn't have a functioning brain or functioning anything. He thought Luke was going to fucking _kiss_ him, ha, and it'd made him so _weak_ that he lost control and dropped his glass. His glass of really fucking expensive wine that's probably worth more than Michael's entire life.

He cries himself to sleep that night.

~

“And then I dropped my glass and cut myself tryna clean it up.”

“Idiot.” Calum snorts. Michael doesn’t take it to heart; how can he, when Calum’s practically on top of him right now, nuzzling his chin?

“Wow.” Ashton sighs. “When are you letting go of this damn crush? He's, like, 20 years older than you - “

“Well, 16.” Michael can't help but cut in.

“Oh, whatever,” he rolls his eyes in reply. “Like that's any better.”

They're in Calum and Ashton’s shared apartment, in the front room watching lame singing competitions on TV. The kids are in school, and the house is all clean, leaving Michael a couple hours of free time with his (only) friends.

“And don't come at me with that _age is just a number_ bullshit. Because as true as that is, the man is _married._ With _children._ ”

And Michael knows. It's impossible to forget. Why it hurts still every time he's reminded, he'll never understand.

“I _know_ , Jesus.” He grumbles. “It's not like, God, it's not like I'm gonna try anything. I'm not, I'm not _stupid._ I _know_ I have no chance.” He knows he shouldn't be mad at them, they're just looking out for him, he'd be a right dick to throw that back in their faces. And besides, they're right. “Doesn't mean I can just. Get over it just like that. S’not easy.”

Ashton’s expression softens, sympathy replacing frustration. There's genuine concern and care in his eyes, and Michael wonders how he got lucky enough to land a friend like him. His own parents didn't care this much (or at all, really; they didn't bat an eyelash when he moved halfway across the world, seemed pretty damn stoked, actually, to finally be getting rid of their weird gay son).

He feels Calum move to a sitting position, and then he's immediately being pulled into his arms. He lets it happen.

He sighs, and it comes out choked. Like he's crying, and, well, he is. Into Calum’s shirt, soaking the fabric. He'd feel bad if he wasn't so miserable.

A hand rubs his shoulder comfortingly. It's Ashton, and he smiles sadly at him when Michael turns to look. God. He's pathetic and miserable and he doesn't deserve either of them.

He hadn't even known them for that long, not nearly as long as they'd known each other, only since he moved to L.A. He was a poor broke confused Aussie in the middle of nowhere and they helped him out, told him all the dos and don'ts and ins and outs and never let him feel alone. Without them, there's no way he would've survived those first few weeks.

“Hey,” Ashton says softly. “I won't lie and say I understand, because I don't. Nobody but you can understand what you're going through. But I will say that no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you. And so will Cal, right, Cal?”

“Always.” Calum says immediately.

Michael nods, not trusting himself to speak in case he just starts violently sobbing and making everyone real uncomfortable.

They sit in silence for a while, but it's far from awkward. It's comforting.

“God,” Michael grumbles after a bit, when he's sure he won't burst. “I feel like such a _girl_.”

Calum laughs. Ashton scoffs, but he's grinning, too. “Hey, that's sexist, you prick.”

Calum laughs louder. _“Girls night in_.”

Now Michael's laughing, too. Less so at Calum’s lame joke, mostly at Ashton’s manic giggle.

Suddenly Calum’s cheering loudly, startling Michael and then just making him laugh harder. “Yes! We made him laugh! Mission: Accomplished! Misión: Cumplida!”

Ashton cups his mouth, yelling, “Woooooo!”

Michael rolls his eyes, but he's smiling.

He decides then that it's okay if his life's a little twisted, that the one person he wants he can't have, that his parents couldn't care less about him. He has these guys, and that's all he needs, really.

~

It's 5pm, a little later that day. Michael feels light and happy, a feeling he knows won't last so he makes sure to savour it.

He's curled up on the large sofa with the twins. They're on their third Disney movie in a row, and Michael's dying to get up and stretch his legs, or at least shift positions. But Ruby's clinging to him tightly, and she doesn't seem to be letting him go any time soon. He can't pretend he minds.

“Mikeeey, more food.” Grace demands several minutes later, gesturing to the empty popcorn bowl. He chuckles at the angry look on her face and nods, gently untangling himself from Ruby and standing up, to her dismay. She whines and he kisses her cheek softly to make up for it. It works, she smiles a smile almost too big for her little face and sticks her tongue out at Grace, as if to say _ha ha he loves me more._

When Michael gets back with more popcorn, he's met with them yelling at each other. He sighs, but it's fond.

“Mikey tell her you love me more!”

“No he loves _me_ more!”

“I love you both equally, how about that.” He smiles, amused.

And he does. Love them both equally, that is. He loves all of them, so much that a selfish part of him wishes they were his. His and Luke’s. Like, a dream world, where _he's_ the one married to Luke and these are _his_ kids and they call him _Dad_ and -

No.

He feels his previous happy mood begin to fade slowly. Just as he'd expected it to soon enough, maybe not this quickly, though. The sadness growing in the pit of his stomach is so familiar it's pathetic.

An incessant tapping on his shoulder brings him back to where he is. “Mikey?” a sweet little voice speaks softly. It's Ruby, and she's looking at him with these big round blue eyes and it makes him even sadder. “Please don't cry.” She sounds desperate and sad, almost like she's about to start crying, too.

Michael brings his hand up to his face and realises he was indeed crying. Wow. In front of the twins, too. Path-et-ic.

Suddenly there are small hands wiping away at his face, trying to get rid of his tears and he wants to cry even more because there's nobody on earth purer than these little angels.

“See what you did?! You made Mikey sad!” Ruby glares at Grace, and it makes Michael choke out a laugh through his tears.

“Hey, hey, no. Neither of you made me sad, you could never make me sad.” He hugs them both closer, placing light kisses on both of their heads. “I'm just tired. Today was a long rough day and when I'm tired I get a little emotional and sometimes I cry. Cause I'm a loser.”

He expects them to laugh, but instead they look at him with those big sad eyes again. “You're not a loser, Mikey. You're my best friend. Don't like when you're sad.”

His heart thumps almost painfully, a fresh wave of emotion washing over him. He has to fight not to start crying again.

“Promise you'll never be sad again ever.”

He gulps and forces a smile. “I promise.”

The lie is worth it when they immediately light up and curl back against him.

He's already breaking the promise as they continue watching the movie.

~

Luke’s been acting since he was 15, according to his Wikipedia page. He started out playing small parts here and there, not really landing a major role until the age of 24. Things only got bigger and better for him from then on.

He and Melissa were - still are - Hollywood's _it_ couple, on the covers of countless magazines. The media adores them - or, more likely adores the money they make off them. It's gross.

Michael loves watching Luke’s interviews. Is that creepy, watching videos of your boss on YouTube at 3am? Very.

He can't help it, though. Luke is so passionate, so into his job. It's not hard at all to tell he's living his dream.

His favourite interview is one where Luke talks about the downsides of fame, the hardships he faces everyday. He says it definitely drags him down sometimes, but that thinking of his kids at home keeps him grounded, and knowing they're safe and well looked after means everything to him.

He says he loves them more than himself, and makes absolute sure he leaves them in the best possible hands.

It makes Michael's heart bubble with giddiness and pride, because Luke might as well be referring to him, he trusts _him_ with his children's lives.

He watches the interview whenever he's feeling down. Which is more often than not.

~

Michael's favourite movie that Luke plays a lead role in is about a young guy who falls in love with a married woman who happens - just wait for it - to be married to his older brother. It ends pretty tragically, with Luke’s character getting shot after being caught in bed with her and all but, Luke looks really, really good throughout the entire film and and Michael's a horny teenage boy, _alright._

He's watching it right now, on the TV in his room. The kids are at school, Luke and Melissa are busy shooting so he's alone with nothing better to do than thirst.

He's on the part where Luke’s brother - well, the actor playing Luke’s characters brother, duh - is clapping him on the back and wishing him luck on his ‘date’. The irony of it is that Luke’s character is actually on his way to screw his wife in a hotel she told him she's staying at. Wild.

Michael's watched this movie more times than what should be considered healthy. He practically has each scene memorised. And because he's actually a little girl trapped inside a grown man's body, he blushes and squirms during the particularly explicit scenes, watching on in awe at the way Luke kisses and touches the actress and trying not to picture himself in her shoes because _wrong wrong wrong._

He hates how far gone he is. He hates that the one thing he truly wants he can never have. Mostly, though, he hates how utterly selfish he is; living in L.A., with the best job in the world and the two best friends he could ever ask for, and still effing _miserable_ ** _._ **


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOUUUU SO MUCH to everyone who commented nice things it means more to me than you know :)<3
> 
> p.s. i do not in any way shape or form condone cheating!!!!! at all

Luke’s going away to New York for 2 weeks.

He's kissing the kids goodbye, Michael watching from just a few feet away. As much as they all insist he's part of the family, and as much as he truly feels that he is, it still feels somewhat wrong to intervene at moments like these.

The twins are crying, loudly, and Sarah looks like she's trying not to. Derek just looks bored, but Michael can see right through him. Luke kisses all of their cheeks and foreheads and squeezes them tight, promising he'll be back soon with super cool gifts for them all and that Michael will be here to take good care of them. “Right, Michael?” he smiles warmly at him.

Michael nods, smiling back.

~

Michael’s most stressful Monday morning yet (he fucking overslept and almost made the kids late to school, oh, and he dumped coffee all over his _extremely_ skinny jeans, no biggie) is followed by another of what Calum now jokingly likes to call a _Girl’s Night In,_ where the three of them all gather in either Calum and Ashton’s place or the Hemmings’ penthouse and ‘talk about their feelings’. Michael doesn’t care enough to point out that one, they’re not girls, and two, it’s hardly even noon yet, so it can’t be a night in.

They’re in the penthouse this time, in the front room on the comfy couch. Ashton has work early, so it’s just Michael with Calum today. And of _course_ their conversation revolves around Luke. It’s inevitable thanks to Michael (he kinda hates himself for it, but can’t stop if he tried).

Calum’s pointing at him, squinting slightly. “What we need to do,” he says, “is get you a boyfriend.”

The snort that sounds from Michael’s mouth is a complete accident, but it puts across his thoughts on the proposition perfectly.

“ _Yes._ Come on. You wanna die alone?”

“Yes.”

Hook-ups are one thing, but actually _dating_ someone? It’d be real fucking shitty of him to go and commit to a person while simultaneously garnering feelings for someone else. And besides, he can’t imagine himself being with anyone other than Luke. It’s wrong and unhealthy and the farthest thing from sensible but his stupid heart wants what his stupid heart wants and that’s just that.

Calum rolls his eyes. “Michael.”

“Yes.”

“Mich - “

“ _No,_ Calum.”

Calum sighs, seemingly admitting defeat. But alas - “How about th - “

“Calum. No.”

“Let me finish, dickface.” He continues, “we can go out, any place you want, and you just mingle a bit. And if you hit it off with someone, fucking awesome, mission accomplished. If you don’t, _cool._ And after that I _promise_ I’ll stop hassling you about this. Deal?”

Michael considers. He really hates the idea of being with someone that’s not Luke, but he can’t _have_ Luke is the thing, and being with him would just be plain wrong anyway. Eventually he’s sighing. “Fine. Whatever. But I’m telling you now, it isn't gonna work.”

~

Melissa’s day off (very conveniently) lands on the Friday of that same week, meaning Michael has the night off and they can finally carry out Calum’s master plan.

He probably should, but he doesn’t really make much of an effort with his appearance. Partly because he barely has the energy, partly because he doesn’t care. He just wears what he usually wears, styles his hair like he always has. He isn’t trying to pull anyone. _They’ll_ have to come to _him_ (and will they even, when he practically looks homeless? Exactly).

Calum doesn’t tell him where they’re going, and Michael only understands why once they arrive.

He snorts. “Really? A fucking gay club?”

“More options to choose from!”

“I hate you.”

~

Michael does spot someone; a tall, blonde, blue-eyed beauty in a Sex Pistols shirt and jeans even skinnier than his own.

They hit it off straight away.

The guys name is Chris and he's funny and cool and laughs at Michael's jokes. He’s 21 years old, Michael learns, and is only in L.A. for a couple weeks on vacation with a few friends. He calls Michael cute and tells him he’s got pretty lips (whatever that’s supposed to mean) (“it means your lips are pretty”) and his hand is circled around Michael's waist and his deep blue eyes are dancing with something suggestive.

He decides he's going for it. _Fuck it._ What's he got to lose.

He takes a deep breath. “Let's get out of here.”

Chris grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

The sex is amazing, and when it's over they collapse in a hot sweaty pile and fall asleep, not bothering to clean their mess up but it's okay because they're both too worn out and tired to acknowledge how gross it is anyway.

When Michael wakes up he's bombarded by texts from Calum asking him a million questions. He doesn't know how to answer any, doesn't have the energy or the will, so he snaps a quick photo of Chris, who's still snoring soundly, and sends it to him.

The tick on the bottom right of the message turns blue not even a minute later, signifying it's been read. But he doesn't receive a reply for at least another 5 minutes.

_michael r u kidding me_

He frowns at his phone, utterly confused. Is this not what Calum wanted? Was this not Calum's idea in the first place?

He types _what_ and is just about to press send when another reply comes in.

_he looks exactly like luke. ur kidding_

Michael blinks down at the words, his face dropping. He turns to look at Chris and- _Goddammit,_ he _does_ look a bit like Luke, _a lot_ like Luke. Maybe his eyes aren’t that perfect shade of blue, and his nose isn’t the exact right shape. But if he were a fair distance away, or facing the opposite direction, he could easily be mistaken for Luke.

Everything clicks into place, and Michael wants to curl up and cry (or just _die_ ).

_?? lots of ppl have blonde hair n blue eyes not just Luke_

It’s pathetic, he knows it and he knows Calum knows it and God knows it and everybody knows it. He’s just trying to hold onto the small sliver of pride he has left.

He really thought he'd finally moved on, or was at least _starting_ to. That maybe Chris was a step in the right direction. Maybe not _The One,_ necessarily, but. A stepping stone. Now it's morning and it's all faded and he knows he'll never move on and Chris was just a fuck and he is so, _so_ freaking screwed.

_whatever helps ya sleep at night bro_

He locks his phone and chucks it onto the bedside table. He forgets to be quiet about it, and Chris stirs and wakes up.

He's nice enough not to kick Michael out straight away, and they eat pancakes and exchange numbers and even engage in a second round before Michael tells him he's sorry but he really has to get back to work soon. Chris doesn't believe him when he tells him who he works for, and Michael winks and says he should come over one day to see for himself.

Then he's alone again, checking his phone as he walks and seeing 3 unread messages from Calum. He doesn't open them.

~

The next few days fly by.

He starts meeting up with Chris regularly. Luckily he and Michael are on the same page and aren’t looking for anything serious, just a little fun.

Michael doesn't really know _what_ they are (fuck buddies? Friends with benefits?), but it works.

Maybe it is a little messed up that all he can think about when they’re fucking is Luke, but it’s not like he can stop it.

~

Michael doesn't invite Chris over to the penthouse until Luke’s back from New York. Mainly so that he can see him and know he wasn't lying about working for the Hemmings’, but also because a weird, dumb part of Michael kinda wants Luke to see him with another guy. It's ridiculous and downright immature but he has an excuse and it's that love is blind and stupid.

“Holy _shit._ ” Chris breathes, taking in his surroundings.

“That was my first reaction, too.”

He hears a door shut upstairs and quickly grabs Chris’ hand, lacing it with his own and ignoring the puzzled glance sent his way.

“Hello Michael, ho - ...oh, who’s your friend?”

Plastering a big fat grin on his face, Michael answers, “This is Chris!” with way too much enthusiasm. He swears he sees Luke twitch.

“Hello, Chris.”

Chris is starstruck, eyes wide and mouth ajar. “Oh, my God - you’re - _holy fuck._ ”

Luke finally tears his eyes away from their adjoined hands. He smiles a kind, genuine smile, sticking out his hand.

“It's lovely to meet you.”

Chris shakes his hand with a dreamy expression on his face. “Can I - can I have a picture?”

Luke’s smile broadens. “Of course.”

Chris has Michael take the photo (several photos), and when it's done he asks for a quick hug. Michael watches disbelievingly as Chris practically _koala_ hugs Luke. Gosh, the _nerve._ He also can’t believe his ploy to get Luke jealous ended up getting _him_ jealous. Karma truly is a bitch.

Then Luke’s telling them both he's sorry but he's afraid he has to leave for now and that Chris is welcome to stay for however long he'd like. And he's gone.

“He’s even hotter in person, damn.”

Michael sighs miserably. “I know.”

~

It's later that same day and Michael's struggling to put the twins to bed. They're just so damn full of energy and it's endearing, it truly is, just not when it's almost 11pm and he has to wake up earlier than everyone else in the house so he can get them all up and ready for school.

He's just about ready to pull his hair out in frustration when he hears footsteps behind him.

It's Melissa. She has a children's book in her hand and a small smile on her face. “Go get some sleep, hon. I'll take care of it.”

Michael smiles gratefully at her, carefully disentangling himself from Ruby's little yet surprisingly strong hands (she was trying to eat his hair). He kisses her cheek and forehead to let her know he isn't really mad at her (how could he ever be), before doing the same to Grace.

He decides to fetch himself a drink of water before heading to his room, frowning when he sees the lights in the kitchen already on. The frown deepens when he sees it's Luke. His stomach flips almost painfully and he's ready to turn back around but then it's too late.

“Oh, hello, Michael.” Luke smiles warmly.

“Hey,” he tries to sound as casual as possible, like his heart isn’t about ready to fly out of his chest and into Luke’s hand. Probably fails. But it's whatever.

“Have fun with your boyfriend today?” and Michael nearly chokes on air.

“He's not my boyfriend!” he blurts, eyes widening immediately after.

“Oh? No?”

“No, he's - uh - he's just, my - um,”

Luke’s eyebrow is raised and his lips are twitching slightly. “Just a friend?” he sounds unconvinced, amused, and there’s something else there that Michael can’t decipher.

“Yes?” he doesn’t know why it comes out like a question, like he himself has no clue what he’s doing. Does he?

Luke has a thoughtful look in his eyes, looking at Michael like he’s trying to read him. He walks forwards until he’s only about a foot away from him, maintaining the same intense stare, and Michael’s heart is ready to burst out of his body and run out of the building now.

Then he’s smiling, and it’s so big and bright and beautiful that Michael physically can’t take it anymore, and he’s surging forwards.

His lips crash against Luke’s. It’s hard and messy and likely painful and he’s pulling back with a gasp less than 5 seconds later, eyes wide in horror. “Oh  my God! _I’m so sorry, fuck, I -_ “

Luke cuts him off with a laugh, his own eyes wide open in surprise. He grabs Michael’s chin in his hand. “You’re adorable.” he whispers, then he’s the one leaning in, capturing his lips in a kiss much more graceful than the last.

Michael melts into it instantly, pleasure rushing through his veins. Every nerve in his body feels lit up. He lifts his hands and wraps them around Luke’s neck, runs his fingers through the thick blonde locks and almost moaning because _damn does that feel good._ He lets Luke deepen the kiss and lick into his mouth, use his tongue to explore every inch of it, run his hands all over his body.

When they pull back Luke’s eyes are so dark it makes his knees quake. He can’t examine them for too long, however, because then he’s dropping his mouth down to latch at his neck. He throws his head back, flinching when it hits the wall, but then Luke’s sucking the sensitive skin there and he forgets the pain.

He barely registers that what Luke’s doing is bound to leave a fairly noticeable mark, too lost in it, really.

There’s a voice in his head screaming, yelling at him, telling him how _wrong_ this is, how much damage it could cause, to _stop it_ before it’s too late. Maybe he might’ve listened, if it were anyone else kissing him.

Suddenly he’s being spun round, so he’s facing the kitchen wall. He gasps quietly, bracing his hands against it. His hearts beating so hard and fast it just feels like a continuous drumbeat.

Luke doesn’t waste any time; dips his hand into Michael’s boxers and grips his cock, fully hard and throbbing. He squeezes his fingers around it before starting to stroke, hard and fast from the get-go. Michael gasps sharply.

“Do you like that, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes.”

Michael's in heaven, he's sure of it. He’s never felt this way before with anyone, and all it is is a _handjob._ But Luke’s hand is large and warm and firm and just _feels so good._

“So beautiful, baby. So, so perfect.”

Michael squeaks in response, bucking into Luke’s fist. He’s already so close he can taste it, and Luke’s little comments are doing everything to help.

“So responsive, too.” Luke hums, lips at his ear. “God, you’re something out of my dreams.”

His stomach is swimming with white hot pleasure. He drops his head back so it’s against Luke’s shoulder, and Luke’s whispering right into his ear. “Come for me, sweetheart. Be a good boy and come for me.”

Then Luke’s twisting his wrist and he’s coming. Into his boxers, all over Luke’s fist. The last time he came that hard was...never.

He comes down for what feels like 20 years, panting almost violently with Luke still whispering in his ear.

“You're so lovely,” he murmurs it, like he's saying it more to himself than anything. “So sweet.”

He’s still panting, head still rested on Luke’s shoulder, Luke’s hand still wrapped around him and his lips still against his ear several seconds later. Reality doesn't catch up until he hears a door shut closed upstairs. And _shit._

He rips away from Luke, putting about 5 feet of space between their bodies, his eyes wide.

“Michael - “

“She’s upstairs,” his voice shakes. “I have to go.”

He practically runs out of the kitchen, not stopping until he’s safely inside his room.

He tugs off his sweats and his boxers with shaking hands, buries himself underneath the covers and screams into his pillow so it's muffled.

He doesn’t sleep a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KJSJJJ


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH. MY GOD.
> 
> i have so much to say i don't even know where to begin. so i'm going to start with the obvious: I'M SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME LITERALLY MONTHS TO UPDATE THIS. I'M SO FREAKING SORRY.
> 
> 1- i know this is a lousy excuse but school, schools been killing me i am dying  
> 2- writers block, as you may all know, is a bitch  
> 3- this is a story i really wanted to think through properly
> 
> this chapter wasn't supposed to go like this at ALL and this third part was meant to be the last part with a compleeetely different ending but i realised i have soooo many cool ideas for this story and i didn't wanna just end it. so this isn't the last chapter.
> 
> as for this chapter, i don't even know if i'm a 100% happy with how it turned out and it's probably too fast paced but as soon as i finished it i knew i had to get it out so boom.
> 
> i have loads more to say but for now........ read and (hopefully) enjoy!!!!

Michael’s still a dazed wreck when he gets back from the school run the next day. He’d almost gotten run over on his walk back to the penthouse and was cussed out by the driver for not paying attention. It feels like his heart hasn’t stopped racing all night, and when he looks in the mirror his face is the same flushed pink as the night before.

The night before.

He collapses back onto his bed, lips parted. It won’t sink in that  _ that  _ happened. Luke really kissed him - he could’ve,  _ should’ve _ , pushed Michael away the first time,  _ should’ve fucking fired him  _ right there _. _ But he didn’t; he kissed him, touched him, made him come knowing - did he know? - his wife was just upstairs.

He’s trying not to think about it, which only makes him think about it more, makes it impossible  _ not  _ to think about it. He’s thinking about Luke’s lips against his and Luke’s hands all over him. Luke pressed against his back, whispering into his ear. Luke touching him, kissing him, holding him.

It feels like he’s in a movie. A shitty, awful, tragic movie about a selfish idiot who helped a man cheat on his wife.

He wishes it really  _ were  _ a movie. At least then it wouldn’t be real.

~

For a while he just burrows beneath his covers and wallows in his misery.

Everything’s fucked up now. If it isn’t already, it will be soon enough. His self-control did him wrong and he can never go back from that. He’s  _ done. _ He’s never going to be able to look anyone in the eye again. Especially Melissa.

He feels dirty and cheap and used and terrible, but a tiny, awful part of him regrets nothing, and would gladly relive the moment. It’s a complicated emotion- he was with Luke in a way he’s wanted to be with him for as long as he can remember, and in the moment it was magical. Nobody had ever single handedly -  _ literally single handedly  _ \- made him feel so  _ good.  _ He’d felt like he was floating on a cloud and he’d never, ever come off it.

But then he  _ did  _ and now everything feels like it’s crashing down around him and nothing will ever be okay again.

Time is unbearably sluggish yet somehow still blurrily fast. Before he knows it’s time to bring the kids home from school.

He mentally prepares himself for the worst. If anyone finds out he’ll definitely lose his job. And considering the Hemmings’ level of fame he’ll most likely never be hired anywhere again. He’ll have to pack his bags and enroute back to Australia. It’s doubtful anyone else will pay for his expenses, so he’ll have to find some way to gather the money himself, which he can’t possibly do without a job but he can’t  _ get  _ a fuckin’ job and -

Yeah, he’s fucked.

~

He was supposed to be cleaning the kitchen but he fell asleep, and when he wakes again it’s to yelling.

He can’t make out any words, doesn’t even fully process what’s going on until he yawns and blinks a few times. And then his heart drops.

_ This is it.  _ Melissa’s probably found out and he’s going to get his sorry ass kicked out and he didn’t even get to say goodbye to the kids and -

_ Knock knock. _

Fuck.

“C-Coming!”

He scrambles to make his way to the door, breath coming in quick uneven pants.  _ Might as well just get this over with. _

When he opens it, though, he's met with- nothing. He frowns, confusion joining the fear brewing in his stomach. Then the unmistakable sound of sobbing reaches his ears and he looks down and- oh.

It’s Ruby, eyes wide and afraid, teddy clutched to her chest, tears streaming down her face. “Make them stop  _ yelling!” _

Michael feels his heart crack in two (which it's been doing too much of lately).

He spends the next hour gently rocking her in his arms, kissing her forehead and trying to reassure her that everything's going to be okay until eventually the sobs die down a bit, till she's just snuffling and pouting.

~

Later that afternoon there's another knock on his door, a softer one this time.

Michael frowns, his pulse speeding up again.  _ Who and why- _

It's Luke.

“Hello, Michael.” He has slight bags under his eyes and his smile looks weak and tired. He still looks breathtaking to Michael. “Can we talk?”

“Um. Yeah- yes. Come in.” He awkwardly moves aside and opens the door wider, so Luke can make his way inside.

He sits on Michael's bed, and Michael doesn't really know whether he should sit beside him or stay standing. Luke decides for him, patting the spot next to him and gesturing for him to sit.

He does, looking anywhere but straight at Luke - his shoes, the floor, Luke’s shoes.

“I want to apologise.”

At this his head snaps up to face him. Why is _Luke_ apologising? It's his own damn fault for even kissing him in the first place. It's a butterfly effect; if he hadn't kissed Luke first, Luke likely wouldn't have kissed him, or ended up getting him off for that matter. No- if he hadn’t fallen in love with his boss in the _first_ place none of this would have happened at all. _He_ got the dominoes rolling.

“I - what?”

“What happened yesterday. It was wrong of me. I took advantage of you and I shouldn't have.”

Michael can't believe it. “I - it was my fault, too, I - “

“I'm the adult. I should've known better.”

Michael can't help but take offence to that, wants to cut in - say  _ hey, I'm an adult, too, I can make my own decisions,  _ but decides not to dig himself a deeper hole.

“It. It's okay. I… I'm sorry, too.” And he is. He really, truly is.

Not for what happened, no. He’d relive that over and over and over again for the rest of his life if he could. He’s sorry for falling in love with someone so out of reach it's laughable. Someone so close - literally so, so close - but too far away to hold onto. He's so sorry.

Luke sighs quietly, keeps his eyes fixed down at his hands in his lap. “You probably hate me now and I wouldn't blame you. But - and maybe this is too much to ask - but I was hoping you'd still wanna stay. It's understandable if you wanna leave, I wouldn't wanna stay near me either and I won't force you against your will to stay, but. You're the best there is at this, Michael. My children love you to bits and they need you. Would it - would you stay?”

Michael has to swallow hard because his breath got stuck in his throat. “I don't - I don't wanna leave. I never wanted to leave. I was worried - that  _ you'd  _ want me to leave.”

“Never.” His answer is immediate and it makes Michael's heart jump. “I love you, Michael.”

The entire world seems to freeze for a minute - or at least Michael's does. He physically feels his breath catch in his throat and his stomach clench painfully.  _ What - ? _

Luke must realise what he said, because he looks urgent for a split second. Then he's composing himself. “We all love you. We need you here.”

Michael opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. So he just smiles and nods.

Luke stands. He walks to the door and Michael follows him. Before he leaves, he turns around and smiles again, the upward curve of his lips nervous and unsure, and still so beautiful. “Sorry again.” Michael manages to crack out a small reply.

Then he's gone as fast as he came.

_ I love you, Michael  _ is on a loop in Michael's head for the rest of that day.

~

For some reason, Michael expects everything to change. At least between him and Luke. After all, they  _ did  _ kind of get off together. That’s got to account for some change, right?

He doesn’t know exactly what he was expecting - longing looks, lingering touches, prolonged eye contact that ends with blushing and giggling, all that lovey dovey bullshit he’s seen in the movies maybe…

To his (un)surprise, nothing changes. It’s been almost a month since it happened and everything’s pretty much gone back to normal and he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

~

“How  _ dare  _ he fucking use you like that?! And then throw you away like a fucking worthless toy afterwards?!”

Michael quickly learns that letting Calum know what happened with Luke was a big mistake on his part.

The man is positively fuming.

“He didn’t- he did not  _ use  _ me, Calum.” Michael groans, eyes rolling exaggeratedly. “It was 100% consensual - I - he - we - “

_ “Still!  _ He fucking took advantage of you, Michael! Can’t you see that?”

Michael sighs loudly. How’s he gonna be able to convince Calum that Luke isn’t  _ like that.  _ Is he?

Ashton, always the level headed one, cuts in, “Maybe his wife hasn’t been giving him any lately, and his sexual frustration just got the best of him.”

Michael rolls his eyes again, resisting the urge to start screaming.

“We’re both adults. Yeah it was wrong and a mistake but it was completely mutual and he apologized and - “

“Stop defending him! You’re so blindingly in love with him you can’t even see past how  _ horribly  _ he treated you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows how you feel- he  _ knew  _ you’d let him touch you and you- you-  _ GODDAMMIT!” _

Ashton suddenly snorts loudly, causing both Michael and Calum to whip around.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just,” he giggles, “Calum, you’re so funny when you’re mad.”

“ _ OH FUCK OFF ASHTON!” _

They end up calming Calum down enough to watch a movie, popcorn bowl being passed between them.

~

He’s helping Derek with his algebra homework when Luke walks in, leaning against the wall. He’s clean shaven and he looks calm, happy- a stark contrast to how he’s been for the past few weeks, and it makes Michael feel good.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Michael?”

“Uh, sure.” He stands up, subconsciously dusting off his jeans in the process. “Be right back,” he says as he slaps Derek's shoulder affectionately, who grumbles a “you better be” in response, looking down at the equations in front of him like they're in a complete foreign language.

He follows Luke all the way down to the living room, where he’s made to sit next to him on the couch and now Luke looks a bit… nervous?

“So as you know the kids are gonna be in Santa Cruz for the summer and Melissa’s doing her promo tour, so I thought you’d want to come to New York with me? You know… so you won’t be alone.”

Michael’s heart swells and he bites his lip tight so he doesn’t start smiling like an idiot. The logistics aren’t entirely accurate - Michael wouldn’t be alone if he just went to Ashton or Calum, or even Chris (who's practically at his beck and call). But Luke doesn't need to know that. And going to New York City with Luke fucking Hemmings is something he’d never forgive himself for turning down.

“I mean, you seriously don’t have to if you don’t want - I just, you know, since there’s not gonna be anyone - I just thought - ” he’s the most flustered Michael’s ever seen him, and it’s so painfully endearing and not to mention _satisfying_ because it’s usually Michael in that position, but he decides to put an end to his misery anyway.

“I’d love to.”

Luke breathes a sigh of relief, his whole body seeming to slump as though he’d been holding his breath for twenty minutes. He smiles softly at Michael, who smiles back, bottom lip in between his teeth. They stay like that, just staring at each other and smiling, for a few minutes that feel like a few years before Luke speaks up again.

“We leave next Tuesday, just so you know.”

~

Just a little over a week later, Michael finds himself in the midst of tall skyscrapers and bright yellow cabs.

“I can’t believe I’m  _ here! _ ” he blurts out, so loud it rings off unpleasantly in his own ears.

Luke just chuckles beside him. “I know. I’ll definitely have to show you around tomorrow. Would you mind coming to this charity event with me tonight though? You don’t have to, just so you don’t have to be in the hotel on your ow - “

“Yes!”

Luke laughs again, rolling his eyes. “You’re like a little kid.” he says, making Michael blush lightly. “It’s adorable.”

This has to be maybe the third time Luke’s called him adorable and unless he wants Michael to die in his arms, it needs to stop.

~

The hotel they’re staying at is 5 stars and absolutely brimming with life and conversation and music and food and -  _ everything. _

Luke must see Michael eyeing the rows of tables filled with food hungrily because he says, “go help yourself.” And oh, yes he will.

He goes straight for the plantains.

As he scarfs down most of what’s in sight, he can’t help but think  _ is this what it feels like to be rich? _

It turns out Luke booked 2 separate rooms opposite one another, which, okay, Michael shouldn’t be surprised, and certainly not disappointed. What, did he expect Luke to cuddle him to sleep or something.

He unloads his stuff, refusing to let himself be sad. He’s in  _ New York  _ for Christ’s sake, in a 5 star hotel in a 5 star room with a huge awesome comfy 5 star bed and 5 star food. There’s no way he’s wasting a single minute being sad.

So he tucks his suitcase underneath the bed and lets himself fall, back hitting the plush mattress. He sighs contentedly, eyes shut, blissful look on his face.

~

They're at this fundraiser Luke was talking about and Michael doesn't remember being this starstruck since he met Luke for the first time.

There are these round tables everywhere that seat about 4 to 5 people, covered in this silky table cloth made of the softest material Michael's ever touched and Michael knows he's somehow gonna end up staining it somehow. But Luke reassures him that he won't and it's okay even if he does and nobody really cares about what he's wearing or doing or how he's eating and if they do their opinion doesn't matter anyway and he should be nothing short of himself even here, surrounded by A List actors and actresses and businessmen and women and Other Rich People, as Michael's deciding to call them all.

Luke is right next to him, his chair significantly closer than it had been when they first sat and Michael doesn't mind it one bit. In fact he wants it even closer, or, preferably, non existent so Luke would have to share his chair with him and they'd have to practically be on top of each other. That'd be cool too.

There's this other guy sitting on their table, wearing a pristine classic black and white suit and looking very pleased to be there. Next to him sits a gorgeous lady who looks about 30 something, wearing an elegant looking purple dress and her brown hair in a bun. They each introduce themselves as Nick and Layla.

Nick gives Michael this huge, 5 million megawatt smile as he's shaking his hand. He's tall - not exactly Luke tall, but tall nonetheless - with dark hair and dark eyes to match, and olive skin.

Truth be told, Nick is quite cute, and quite close to Michael's age. In an alternate universe, one where he wasn't so gone for Luke, maybe he'd be remotely interested.

“So Michael, where are you from?” He sounds exactly how you'd expect him to; smooth and calculated, the kind of voice you'd expect from a typical high school sitcom bad boy.

“Sydney, Australia. But I moved to L.A. late last year.”

Then Nick is asking him about his age, his job, his future aspirations, just regular small talk Michael thinks nothing of really, but then he's asking about his goddamn  _ relationship status  _ and now Michael's a bit iffy.

“I'm single, unfortunately.” he says lightly, gives a lopsided smile, trying to make the situation a little less uncomfortable than it's managed to become.

They talk a bit more, and it's all good. Nick's cute. Everything's cool.

Then all of a sudden he feels a large, warm hand on his thigh and looks to his right. It's Luke’s hand, gripped tightly over his leg, but Luke himself isn't even looking at him, absorbed in his own conversation with Layla. Michael frowns, confused.

“So Michael, where did you study?”

“Oh, um, I didn't - “ Luke squeezes his thigh and he nearly gasps in surprise, but manages to stop himself. There's a pause. “I didn't go to university.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Uhh. What about y - “  _ squeeze  _ “what about you?”

Nick grins proudly. “Performing Arts at Harvard!”

“Oh, wow, that's - “  _ squeeze  _ “a-ah-amazing.”

Nick's grin falters slightly. “Are you okay?”

Michael's face is burning hot and so is his entire right leg. “What? Yeah I'm good!”

He hears Luke laugh and it's at something Layla said, but he can't help feeling like it's directed at him.

For the rest of the event, every time he so much as looked in Nick's direction his thigh received a small squeeze.

~

“How was tonight?” Luke smiled warmly. They're back at the hotel, standing alone outside their rooms, and while Luke looks completely composed, Michael's face is still 100 degrees and he's pretty sure his leg - the very one Luke's hand had rubbed and squeezed and caressed for the better part of 2 hours - is going to break off and fly away at the rate it's tingling and trembling at.

“It was amazing, I - what are you doing?” he blurts, unable to stop himself. Luke's expression changes only slightly. He's lost and confused and kind of hates that Luke is so unaffected. “What are  _ we  _ doing?”

It's a pretty general question. If he were Luke he'd probably go down the smart ass route, say something along the lines of “what are we doing? well we're standing and talking!” he can hear the canned laughter and audience groans in his head.

Luke doesn't do that though. He reaches out, takes Michael's hand in his. Laces their fingers together. Keeps eye contact, almost unblinking. Then he's leaning forward, not stopping till their mouths are inches apart. Teasingly, he brushes his lips softly against Michael's.

Then they're kissing. And it's even better than the last time (God, there was a last time). It's soft and slow and Luke's still got their hands laced and his other hand is on Michael's face, stroking his cheek softly with his thumb. Their noses brush together, soft and gentle when Luke re-angles his head, and the hand not laced with Luke's is on his shoulder.

He's in heaven.

“This.” is what Luke whispers, 5 years later when they're finally pulling away, and it takes Michael a few to realise he's answering his question from earlier. “But only if you want. And I mean that-  _ only  _ if you want.” and he looks so serious, like he'd immediately drop it and let him go if Michael said no, no questions asked about it, and it makes Michael love him impossibly more.

He's nodding before he can even think it through. Yes he wants it. He wants it more than anything, has wanted it for longer than he can remember and will never stop wanting it. “Yes.” he whispers back, forehead resting against Luke's. “Yes.”

It's pretty much a blur after that.

Luke pulls him into his hotel room, carefully lays him down on the bed. Michael watches, a blush coating his cheeks, as Luke strips off his suit.

Then he's on top of Michael with just his boxers on, lips on his for the second time that night and it really does get better every time. It's different in a good way now, the touching of their lips, frantic and desperate just like the way Luke's grinding his hips down against Michael's right now and  _ god if his clothes aren't off in the next 2 seconds he's gonna start sobbing. _

Maybe Luke's telepathic, because he's sitting up and beginning to unbutton Michael's dress shirt (well,  _ Luke's,  _ since he has none of his own). It's off in no time and so are his pants and now they're both just in their boxers and Michael's self conscious next to Luke, with his toned chest and strong arms and perfect body.

But Luke proves himself to be telepathic yet again, leaning down to kiss his lips, whispering, “you're fucking gorgeous.” against them. Michael shivers as he presses kisses against his jaw, down his neck and chest.

He stops just above the waistband of his boxers, looking up at Michael with what can only be described as pure  _ want.  _ It makes Michael squirm beneath him.

Luke taps his leg gently, Michael getting the message to lift his hips so he can take his boxers off. They're thrown somewhere on the floor by the bed and now Michael's completely naked underneath Luke, nothing to hide behind. He feels exposed and vulnerable but in a good way. He likes this. He  _ loves _ this, loves being at Luke's complete mercy, could easily get used to it.

Suddenly he feels strong hands grip his thighs and gently pull them apart, looking down to see Luke situating himself in between his spread legs. He gulps.

“Gonna eat you out, sweetheart. Is that okay with you?”

The words go straight to Michael's aching hard dick, and he swallows again and nods quickly, croaking out a desperate  _ please,  _ making Luke chuckle softly against his thigh.

Michael briefly wonders how Luke's planning on carrying through his words, thinking it'd be miles easier if Michael turned around - the idea of being on his hands and knees with Luke behind him enough to make him bite down on his lip so hard he tastes blood. But his train of thought is cut short when his hips are suddenly being gripped tight and hoisted up slightly off the bed, and his legs are being thrown over Luke's shoulders, so that Luke is essentially eye level with Michael's hole. Fuck.

He can't believe this is happening.

Luke Hemmings is about to eat him out. He can't breathe past the arousal, the want, the  _ need  _ circulating through his veins.

He has no time to physically or mentally prepare himself before he feels the first drag of a tongue along his rim. His body reacts immediately, arching off the bed as a loud uninhibited gasp leaves his lips.

Luke is merciless, hands still tightly gripping at Michael's hips and rubbing at the soft skin there while his tongue licks up and down Michael's rim. He doesn't give a single warning before entering the tight ring of muscle, slowly at first, not wanting to hurt the younger boy, but then more surely as he opens up further. Michael's a moaning mess above him, short fingers gripping the sheets below him so hard his knuckles are ghost white, eyes squeezed shut so tight there are colours and patterns exploding behind his eyelids.

“ _ Luke, Luke, fuck _ ,” are the only two words his brain can come up with as Luke's long, wet tongue starts fucking in and out of his hole relentlessly.

Luke briefly retracts, just to smile softly at Michael (not to mention _casually,_ as if his tongue _wasn't_ just buried deep inside his ass) and ask, like, genuinely ask, “is that good?” as if Michael _wasn't_ just screaming in pleasure just a few seconds ago.

Michael answers anyway, too impatient for Luke's mouth back on him to offer a sarcastic response, “Yes, yeah, god yeah, please Luke.”

“Please what, babe?” he cocks his head to the side, fingers drawing circles on Michael's hips. And Michael wants to yell because of course Luke  _ knows  _ what. He's just being a tease.

“ _ Luke, _ fuck,” he whines, trying (and failing) not to pout.

Luke blinks up at him, stays smiling casually. Adamant as ever. Jesus.

“Want,”  _ gulp  _ “your tongue,” he breathes, adding a “please” for good measure.

“Where, sweetheart?”

“Fuck. In me, inside me  _ now _ , please _ ,  _ Luke,  _ please.” _

“Yeah, want me to fuck you with it again? Make you come everywhere, baby?”

And Michael's  _ not  _ above begging. Not when Luke's talking to him like  _ that _ . “Yes, yes, yes,  _ please  _ Luke!” he feels like he could come just from Luke talking to him like that, but he'd rather come from Luke's tongue pushing in and out of him. And he needs it right  _ now _ .

Luke doesn't verbally respond this time, instead dives back in, licking and sucking and fucking Michael's hole with his tongue in a way that's so _good_ he's beyond moaning at this point.

He's an incoherent, babbling mess, stomach clenching and thighs quivering.

He's so fucking close he can taste it, precum leaking all over his stomach. He's about to come untouched, he's certain.

Luke's making these sexy grunting noises and his hands are gripped so tight around his hips it's sure to leave bruises, and it only takes a few more thrusts of his tongue for Michael to come so hard his vision whites out for a solid minute.

When he comes to, Luke's still licking him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, only stopping once Michael's so sensitive he whines for him to stop. He sets Michael's legs back down against the bed, gentle and caring as ever, and crawls back up the bed to hover over the shaking, blissed out mess that is Michael.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he smiles sweetly, thumb leaning down to brush against his cheek.

Not trusting himself enough to speak, Michael nods. He feels boneless, worn out and exhausted, but undoubtedly the most amazing he's felt in a very long time.

“That's good.” Luke presses his mouth to Michael's softly. Then he's standing up and going into the ensuite bathroom, walking back out a couple seconds later with a towel.

He wipes Michael down with it, occasionally pressing soft kisses on the skin. It's so gentle and soothing and he feels so.  _ Loved _ . He feels loved.

A quick look down and Luke is clearly in need of getting off, but he doesn't even mention it. Just smiles lovingly at him and kisses his lips again.

Michael opens his mouth reluctantly, nervous but determined and ready to tell Luke if he wants him to do anything. No one likes going to sleep horny, after all.

But Luke's shushing him before he can even get a word out, pressing his lips against his forehead, then back down to Michael's lips (where they belong). They stay like that, making out slowly, Luke's thumb rubbing circles on his cheek. Michael's never felt so cared for in his life.

“Sleep, okay?” Luke practically coos, and Michael's heart skips about a dozen beats. He bites his lip, looking into Luke's deep blue eyes and willing himself not to say something embarrassing, something like  _ only if you sleep next to me,  _ anything that might ruin this beautiful moment he may never see again.

He doesn't even need to say it though, as Luke is reading his mind for what has to be the millionth time, lifting the covers over the two of them. He makes Michael the little spoon, wrapping his strong, safe arms tightly around his middle, mumbling a soft and quiet “g’night” into his ear.

Luke must think Michael's fallen asleep, because about 20 or so minutes later he's whispering “I love you” against the back of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right.
> 
> ok.
> 
> so one of the main reasons i love writing so much EVEN if i may not be amazing at it is the ability to build up your own entire world and portray different messages in different ways through that world, and the message of this story is that love is a very very funny thing and it doesn’t know things like age, race and gender etc. when you fall in love, you fall in love and that’s that. in the words of my man edward christopher sheeran; people fall in love in mysterious ways.
> 
> initially this was just going to be a three parter and, i'll be honest, it was going to have a very angsty, very sad ending because i thought "hey might as well make it realistic and relationships like this don't typically end well do they" but i changed my mind and scrapped that idea and though i may not know exactly how this stories going to end or even when, i have sooo many cool ideas for it going forward. :)
> 
> so yeah. sorry again for how long this took me, you have all the right to scream at how awful i am in the comments <3
> 
> thank you so much for reading.


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....... sorryfortaking200yearsagainisuckiknow
> 
> kind of a filler?? crucial to the plot but still. super short and just straight fluff in all honesty (well not STRAIGHT but you get what i'm trying to say)
> 
> this would be longer except i hadn't finished BUT i wanted to have this updated before pride month ends so :)
> 
> enjoy i hope. prolly not.
> 
> p.s. if there are typos. i apologise in advance for i am a lazy little bitch who cannot proofread. continue

For the first time in a long time, Michael doesn't wake up alone.

Luke is pressed against him, his bare chest warm against Michael's back. He can feel his warm breath against the back of his neck, and having people breathe down his neck is one of Michael's biggest pet peeves, but right now it's comforting.

Luke’s arm is wrapped securely around his middle, so Michael can't get up (not that he wants to anyway). He can shift a little though, and he does, turning around slowly in Luke’s arms so he's facing him.

He's fast asleep still, lips slightly parted, the most serene look on his beautiful face. Michael could stare at him forever, but then his eyes are fluttering open and Michael has to quickly shut his own eyes and pretend he wasn't being a total fucking creep.

He hears Luke yawn, and then - “I know you're awake.” Well.

“Am not.”

Luke laughs quietly. “You're cute.”

Michael groans. “You need to stop calling me that.”

“Why? You're cute.”

“I am verging on 20 years old. I am  _ way  _ past ‘cute’.”

Luke laughs again, and it's followed by a comfortable silence. Then -

“Can we talk?”

_ Um, no. _ Is what Michael wants to say because Luke sounds  _ serious  _ and Michael has had enough of serious conversations. But, “yeah, um, sure.”

There's a long pause, and just when it's starting to get uncomfortable Luke sighs. “I want you to know that I… this isn't, it's not a game to me, okay? You - you have to understand that.”

Michael frowns, confused. “Okay?”

“I have feelings for you, Michael.”

And then it all comes rushing back - the  _ I love you  _ whispered against his neck the night before, when Luke thought he was asleep and didn't catch it. He'd wondered if maybe it was his imagination playing tricks on him; a figment of wishful thinking.

Michael tenses, his whole body reacting to Luke’s words.

“I promised myself - I promised I wouldn't let myself and I still did it.”

“Promised you wouldn't…. what?”

Luke makes direct eye contact then, that Michael quickly averts, cheeks burning. “You’re just… so lovely, so beautiful and different from anyone I’ve ever known. You’re amazing with the kids - better than I am even. And usually people just want the job because they’re fans who want the attention, aren’t qualified at all and just want a chance to namedrop. But you… I leave everyday knowing they’re safe and happy with you.” Luke reaches over, taking one of Michael’s hands and holding it between his own. “I wanted you, right from the get-go. I knew I was done for, the second I saw you, with your cute little smile and beautiful eyes and bright hair. But I knew I couldn’t have you, of course I couldn't.”

Michael's breath is deep and irregular and he feels like ripping open his chest to reveal his beating heart for Luke to see; see that he feels the exact same way. Words just won't do it.

“Don't get me wrong - I love Melissa. But just - I'm just not  _ in  _ love with her anymore. It hasn't been the same, for a long time. Even before you came. Maybe we drifted apart. I used to think that maybe I just fell out of love, but then you came along and - I realised I was never really in love with her at all. Not really. You made me realise what it really feels like to be in love with someone,” he reaches down underneath the covers, taking Michael's hand in his. “To feel like your whole world revolves around them and wanting to constantly see them happy. You make me wanna -  _ God -  _ you make me wanna climb on top of a roof and yell. No one's made me feel the way you do. You're my dream. And,” he breathes out shakily. “She knows that.”

Michael's heart stops.  _ Um. What.  _ “Um. Wh-what?”

Luke manages a small, strained smile. “I - about… this. Us. She knows. I told her - after the first time.”

Michael's shocked into silence.

“I couldn't - I couldn't keep it from her. It was awkward, and plain fucking awful, having to sit her down and… but I knew I had to. I told her how I felt, about her and about you and everything in between and at first she was really fuckin’ mad, which, understandable.” Michael recalls the yelling he'd heard coming from Luke and Melissa's room that day, when he'd had to comfort Ruby. “But then she understood. It hurt but she understood.”

Michael doesn't know what to say or how he should react. Some things are way too good to be true and this has to be one of them.

He thinks about Ruby and Grace, and Sarah and Derek; how the hell would they feel, if they knew? In a way, he may be considered a homewrecker. Luke's just too lovely of a person to break that to him probably.

Michael suddenly feels sick and disgusted with himself again, but then Luke’s soft voice is cutting those demons off.

“Hey, please don't frown like that. Know that no matter what happens, you'll be okay. I won't let anything harm you.”

He wants to say  _ I love you _ back so badly; let Luke know that he loves him, so, so unbelievably much- “Okay.”

Luke smiles a small, soft smile, blue eyes swimming with warmth and - fuck - love. Luke loves him.

He cries in the shower; they're not sad tears.

~

“Really? Central park? I thought you were better than this.” Michael shakes his head in a mock-accusing manner.

“It's your first time in New York! I thought you'd wanna see it for yourself!”

Michael rolls his eyes, unable to hide his grin. He wants to kiss Luke, right here in the middle of this park. He doesn't, obviously, but he itches to the entire day.

They stroll through the park talking about nothing, the occasional enamored kid/blushing teen/excited parent asking Luke for pictures which he gladly takes (Michael regrets giving New Yorkers the benefit of the doubt when it came to them being supposed assholes, because if the way at least 90% of them just shoved their phone in his hands and expected him to take a photo is anything to go by, yeah, it's not a myth, New Yorkers are assholes).

Luke takes him to a pizza place (because New York pizza is unbeatable apparently) and Michael pretends it's a date because it makes him happy.

Michael swears he sees movement behind him in the corner of his eye but when he turns around subtly there's nothing there. He's quick to brush it off and forget it, though.

When they get back to the hotel it's a little darker out, people already in their club gear getting ready to, well, club. All Michael wants to do is sleep.

“You got any A-List actor things to do? Cus if so, you're on your own because I'm going to bed.”

Luke laughs. “Nah. I'm free tonight.”

That makes Michael giddy for some reason. He smiles at him. “Good.”

~

Michael showered again and brushed his teeth in his own room beforehand, before then returning to Luke's room per Luke's request.

When Michael eagerly climbs into the bed, Luke hovers hesitantly. “You don't have to do this, ya know? As in sleep here, with me. If you're uncomfortable you can - ”

“No! I mean, uh, no,” he repeats, undoubtedly blushing at how loud he was the first time. “I like it. Um, sleeping with you.” Pause. Then his eyes widen, “wait, no, I meant - like - uh,  _ actually _ sleeping. Beside… you. Not with - not that that's  _ bad,  _ just um, oh my God. Just. Yeah. I'm gonna shut up.”

Luke's grinning from ear to ear. “Don't shut up. You're the cutest and I love hearing you.”

There's that L word again. Michael's heart pangs in his chest every time he hears it come out of Luke's mouth.

Luke climbs into the bed beside him, immediately wrapping his strong arms around him and pulling him close. Warmth floods Michael's body. Luke is so soft yet solid simultaneously and so, so warm and cozy Michael could cry. He suddenly can't remember any of his problems, here in Luke's arms; nothing can harm him or even touch him. He can't think of a single place on earth he's felt safer. He has to say it, right now. He needs to. It's burning inside of him and he needs to free it.

“Luke?” his voice is shaky and weird and he cringes hearing it, wonders if Luke’s cringing too. Probably.

Luke’s still grinning, though, his eyes kind and genuine. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I… I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 things:
> 
> 1\. YOUNGBLOOD. COMMENT WHAT SONGS ARE UR FAVES mine are valentine, why won't you love me, and babylon currently but this changes every hour so
> 
> 2\. muke will always be my favourite but it warms my heart seeing how happy michael is with crystal and SIERRA IS THE CUTEST ANGEL I am so happy for luke he deserves so much happiness especially after the fiasco we called his love life for the past 2-3 years
> 
> 3\. if anyone can spot the slight foreshadowing in this chapter u get 2 cookies 1 for u and 1 for a friend Both for u if u got no friends like me.


	5. five

All need for sleep went out the window as soon as Luke climbed into bed next to him. Maybe it's the fact that he's practically naked save for his boxers that made him want it suddenly, or just because it's all out there in the open now - Luke loves him and he loves Luke and they both know it.

Michael couldn't stop himself, not if he tried. “Luke.”

“Hm?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

There's a pause. It lasts long enough that Michael begins to regret it. But then -

“Are you… that’s,” Luke swallows visibly. Michael watches his Adam's apple bob up and down. “That's what you want?”

He nods.  _ Yes. More than anything.  _ “Yeah, please.”

Luke wasn't the one to bring it up, but it's clear he wants it just as bad. His eyes are darker and they won't leave Michael's face for more than 2 seconds at a time; they travel down to his lips and eventually land on his eyes, looking into them so intensely that Michael almost wants to look away. He can't.

Before he can even take another breath the air is being knocked right out of him. He kisses Luke right back, arching against him. He feels Luke's tongue at his lips and he opens his mouth, feels him slide it inside and moaning into his mouth.

Michael whines when Luke pulls away, eyes staying closed. He feels him peck his lips softly, hears him whisper “wait here, baby” into his ear before the weight of him beside him is gone.

His eyes are still shut when Luke comes back, this time climbing on top of him and covering Michael's body with his own. He rests his hand next to Michael's head on the pillow and kisses his lips again. Michael likes this, likes Luke on top of him, all over him; he feels safe, and protected and loved.

He sees the small clear bottle of lube and condoms in Luke's other hand and feels a thrill of anticipation run through him.

Luke takes his time removing Michael's clothes, like he's revealing a masterpiece. By the time they're both naked Michael's on the brink of begging.

Luke looks at him and Michael feels like his soul is being searched.

“You're sure, yeah?” his voice is low and husky and it makes Michael shiver. He can't nod fast enough.

“Please.”

Luke opens him up slowly, his long, calloused fingers pumping in… out… in… out until Michael's so sick of the leisurely pace that he starts fucking back eagerly against them. Luke chuckles, taking the hint and thrusting them in faster, with more purpose, twisting and curling and scissoring them inside of him until he's an incoherent, writhing mess at Luke's fingertips (literally).

“Luke, Luke m’ready, please, m’ready.”

Luke doesn't listen at first, keeps on fingering him. Michael's so afraid that he'll come too soon, just from this, just from Luke's fingers fucking in and out of him. He wouldn't exactly mind, but right now he wants more than just that. He wants Luke to come with him, inside of him.

_ “Luke,  _ I swear to -  _ God  _ you gotta stop - I'm g-gonna - ”

This time Luke listens, finally pulling his fingers out of him. Michael lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. He feels himself clench around nothing, around air and he wants to whine. He hates emptiness.

He shuts his eyes, hears Luke fumbling with the condom. When he opens them again, Luke looks almost nervous, vulnerable as he gently strokes up and down Michael's thighs. “Baby, you need to promise me, okay? You need to promise me you want this, that you won't regret it.”

Michael feels a pang in his chest; he looks up at him, prays he's emoting the amount of love and trust he feels through his eyes. “I won't regret it. I promise.”

Luke leans up, hovering over him once again. “I need you,”  _ kiss  _ “to be,”  _ kiss  _ “sure,”  _ kiss. _

“I'm sure,” he leans up, kisses Luke's lips and his chin. “I'm so sure. I want it, want you, so much Luke.”

Luke spreads his thighs further apart, and Michael knows he's blushing, but there's no time for embarrassment because before he can process anything, the head of Luke's cock is pressing into him.

He shivers. Luke keeps pushing into him, slowly bottoming out. It hurts, but he got enough prep that the pleasure is already starting to dull the pain. He fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut because he wants to watch Luke as he enters him fully; he looks absolutely blissed out, eyes clouded and lips apart, his grip on Michael's thighs so tight it'll probably leave marks. Michael shivers again at the thought of it.

“God, you're tight, baby.” Michael can't believe this is happening. Can't believe Luke's here with him,  _ inside  _ of him.

“Fuck me,” he whispers back, voice shaky and timid.

And Luke does. He pulls out just about all the way before thrusting back in. Michael moans loudly, legs wrapping themselves around Luke's waist and squeezing tight.

He doesn't know what exactly he expected, but he still knows that this exceeds all of those expectations. Luke is so good, so perfect, doesn't take his attention off Michael's face unless it's to lean down and press kisses to his neck and collarbones as he fucks him.

“Luke,” he whimpers, “I want it harder.”

Luke groans above him. “Yeah, baby, yeah.”

Michael's moans grow louder as Luke fucks him harder, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. Luke's cock hits  _ that _ spot inside of him and he's arching his back, gasping and clenching down around him. He wants to come,  _ God,  _ he wants to come but he can't. Not yet.

He removes an arm from around Luke's neck, goes to cover his mouth so he's not as loud, but Luke doesn't let him. “Don't hide from me, love. Be as loud as you want.” As if to punctuate his point, he takes Michael's hand in his, twining their fingers together and pressing them down next to Michael's head on the pillow.

Their panting breaths and the sound of skin slapping against skin fill the room. When the headboard starts to creak, Michael distantly worries that it'll bother whoever’s in the room next to them or, worse, break the bed somehow, but in that moment he can't bring himself to care. Everything else in the world seems so irrelevant, almost nonexistent, all replaced by Luke's presence and the way he's making him feel. All that exists in his world is Luke.

Michael's nowhere near being a virgin, obviously. But, somehow, it feels like he's experiencing everything for the first time. Like he's being touched, felt,  _ loved  _ for the first time.

Sex was never something he took too seriously; it was always just a glorified way to get off, for him at least. His first time was in a bathroom at a high school party, for fuck’s sake, with someone he can't recall the name of if he tried. He's always just been one to go out from time to time, find somebody,  _ anybody,  _ and jump into bed with them. He'd have sex and it'd be good, great even. But this? This was  _ more  _ than just good,  _ beyond _ great. He can feel Luke everywhere - he's surrounded by him, on top of him, inside of him, all over him - and it's all he wants. All he wants is Luke.

He can feel himself getting closer and closer until he can't take it anymore and he's mumbling incoherently into Luke's ear, letting him know he's not going to last much longer.

Luke grips the backs of his thighs in both hands again, pressing Michael's knees into his chest and quickening the pace of his hips. “Come on, baby, come on, sweetheart. Let go for me.”

It's louder now - the sound of skin slapping skin, the creaking bed. It gets Michael so hot. He's writhing now, so close he can taste it. He doesn't even have time to warn Luke before he's clenching down on him and his vision is fading into white and he's  _ comingcomingcoming,  _ all over his stomach and chest,  _ everywhere.  _ He knows he's loud, can't hear himself he's so lost in ecstasy but he feels it in his throat; he's practically  _ screaming. _

It seems to last a lifetime, nothing like that fleeting feeling he's used to after sex with strangers. There's no guilt, no sense of self-hatred when he comes down, no emptiness.

Soon enough Luke's groaning into his neck, coming into the confines of the condom. Michael finds himself wishing it wasn't there, so that he could feel Luke come deep inside of him, but he's too happy and sated to dwell on it. One day. Soon.

Luke manages to hold himself up for a few seconds before he's collapsing on top of him, panting loudly. Michael hums, not even annoyed at being crushed beneath Luke's giant body. He wraps his arms around him, softly kisses the side of his face.

Luke has to pull out. He has to throw away the condom. They both have to shower, go to sleep.

For now, though, they stay right where they are. Neither of them say it, but the  _ I love you’s  _ are loud and clear in the air.

~

Michael can't get enough. And neither can Luke it seems.

They fuck again when they wake up, this time with Michael on top, his thighs on either side of Luke's as he sinks up and down onto his cock. Luke's hands are tight around Michael's hips, gently controlling his movements. It's slow and sweet and Michael can't stop letting out these embarrassing little gasps and whimpers. He comes first, shuddering and coating Luke's chest with it, and lets him flip them over, press his knees to his chest and thrust into him till he reaches his own high.

They make out in the shower, Michael's hands wrapped tight around Luke's neck as he licks hungrily into his mouth. He wants more even though they just had sex barely half an hour ago. He wants Luke to pin him up against the shower wall and pound into him, make him scream. He keeps quiet, though.

Luke doesn't have anything to do until late afternoon, so after eating breakfast they climb back into bed together. Michael cuddles into Luke's chest (the safest place in the world, he's decided) and Luke strokes his fingers through Michael's hair.

Michael opens his mouth to say “I love you” the exact moment Luke does and they both end up yelling “JINX!” at the same time. They're still laughing 10 minutes later, long after it's stopped being funny.

When they kiss again, it's soft, tender and sweet. Michael feels it in his whole body, tip to toe. It's not the type of kissing classified as foreplay, the kissing that  _ has  _ to lead to some form of carnal pleasure. There's not one ounce of pressure behind it; it's slow, and controlled, and  _ perfect. _

Everything is perfect. Until, well, until it isn't.

~

Whenever Michael would daydream about fame, or try picturing a breaking news story about himself, he always imagined it as something like,  _ Michael Clifford rescues 3 children and puppy from burning building!  _ or  _ Michael Clifford saves kitten from drowning in this viral video! _

Definitely not this.  _ Nothing  _ like this.

In hindsight, Michael probably should've seen it coming.

His hands are shaking as he scrolls through the article - one of many, apparently. There it is. A picture, several of them. Him and Luke at the park, him and Luke at the pizza place. They don't need to be hand in hand or kissing because it's so  _ fucking obvious _ anyway. Just one look at either of their faces gives it away.

He doesn't read it, he  _ can't.  _ The headline alone makes him want to cry.

_ Manwhore alert! Hollywood actor Luke Hemmings caught cheating? _

It's trending on twitter. Nobody knows his name but they all sure as hell know his face now. He sees the words  _ Melissa  _ and  _ beard  _ in the same tweet and wants to throw up suddenly, quickly exiting the app.

There's videos, too. You can't hear what they're saying but their body language is pretty telling. He didn't even realise it at the time, how obvious they were being. Maybe Luke didn't either.

Fuck.  _ Luke.  _ He can't even think about him right now. He's starting to panic.

He has well over 50 texts, all from his group chat with Ashton and Calum. He feels sick suddenly, because - just his fucking luck, _of course_ \- _this_ is how his best friends find out. Not from him, not face to face, not even over the fucking phone, but through distorted headlines and social media.

The nausea in his gut is overwhelming. He throws his phone across the room, not caring where it lands or how. He wants to cry, yell, scream, all at the same time. He wonders what the  _ fuck  _ he did to deserve this - but only briefly, because,  _ ha,  _ he knows  _ exactly  _ what he did to deserve this. Karma truly is a bitch and she's come around to bite him in the ass.

The saying is that nothing lasts forever, but, really, Michael thinks it should be nothing  _ good _ lasts forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh, so uh. How's it going guys

**Author's Note:**

> Ha.
> 
> ok if by some miracle people actually enjoyed this i have the 2nd part written and i'll be posting that at some point next week and i haven't started writing the end yet but i have it all planned out so!!
> 
> again; i am so sorry for this.


End file.
